Max had remembered Dante talking about taking a hot air balloon ride with his family and seeing the Alps, and at the same time Max had recalled Darcy mentioning it some months ago.
In truth, the experience had moved him far more profoundly than he would ever have expected. He’d never seen the earth from above like that when not encased in a plane, with stacks of facts and figures in front of him, hurtling towards yet another meeting to shore up his funds, his reputation. That had all felt dangerously inconsequential when floating soundlessly through the sky.
Max was aware of the fact that this marriage to Darcy was not proceeding at all the way he might have expected when he’d first proposed the idea...the means to his end were veering way off the track. But right now he couldn’t care less. All he cared about was Darcy and the fact that she would be his.
* * *
When they got back to the villa it was early afternoon. Darcy knew she should be feeling hungry because she hadn’t had much breakfast, but she was only hungry for one thing: Max. Now that she’d decided to stop fighting him—and herself—the full extent of her desire was unleashed and it was fearsome.
He held her hand as they went into the villa and Julieta greeted them, clearly surprised to see them back early—evidently Max had had more plans for the day, but Darcy was too keyed up to care what they might have been.
She heard him say to Julieta that she could take the rest of the weekend off if there were some provisions in the kitchen. The housekeeper only lived in the gate lodge nearby, but still Darcy’s face burned with embarrassment, as if it was glaringly obvious what they intended to do.
But the woman took her leave cheerfully, after extracting a promise that they’d ring if they needed anything. Evidently she was used to such instructions.
Once she was gone, and the villa had fallen
silent around them, Darcy looked at Max. Within seconds she was in his arms, their mouths fused, desperation clawing up from somewhere...the deepest, hottest part of her.
After long, drugging kisses and shedding outer layers they broke apart, and Max said gutturally, ‘I’m not taking you here in the hall.’
Before she could object he’d picked her up in his arms, taken the stairs two at a time and shouldered his way into his bedroom. Sunlight streamed in the window and bathed Max in a golden glow. Never more so than now had he looked so awe-inspiring, and Darcy had to push down the quiver of self-doubt that he really desired her at all.
He put her on her feet and reached behind him to pull his top over his head. His chest was bare and right in front of her face. Wide and muscled. Lean. Dark golden hair dusting the surface.
Darcy wasn’t sure if she was breathing—but she was still upright, so she must be. She reached out a tentative hand and touched him, hearing his indrawn breath as her nail scraped a nipple.
He cupped her jaw and tipped her chin up. Dark colour slashed his cheekbones. She could see the question in his eyes and was surprised—she’d have expected him to take ruthless advantage of her acquiescence, giving her no time to change her mind.
To stop the rise of dangerous emotions, and before he could say anything, she put her hand over his mouth. ‘I know who you are, I know who I am, and I know what I want—and that’s you.’
She felt shaky. That was about as close as she could get to telling Max that she was perfectly aware that he’d move on once he’d had her but she was okay with that. If she didn’t want him so badly right now she might hate herself for grinding her self-respect into the dust.
The question faded from Max’s eyes and he put his hands to the bottom of her top, lifting it up. She raised her arms and it slipped up and over her head. Next Max pulled free the band holding her hair, so that it feathered down over her shoulders.
His gaze dropped to the swells of her breasts, encased in lace. ‘Bella...’ His voice was thick.
Darcy reached around behind her and undid her bra, letting it slip to the floor. She groaned softly when Max reverently cupped her breasts, pushing the voluptuous mounds together, rough thumbs making her nipples spring to attention, tight with need. She’d never felt so grateful for her curves as she did right then.
Her hands were busy on his jeans, undoing the top button. Warm flesh and his hard lower belly contracted against her fingers. It was heady to know she could do this to him.
He’d lowered his head and was exploring her with his hot mouth, his wicked tongue flicking against her breasts, learning the shape of her and the way her flesh quivered and tightened at his touch.
Darcy’s hands were clumsy as she ripped free buttons and felt the potent hard bulge of him against her knuckles. Eventually she was able to push down his jeans over lean hips, but then she had to stop because Max had one of her nipples between his teeth, teasing it gently before letting it go to suck the fleeting pain away.
Her legs wouldn’t hold her up any more and she fell back onto the bed. Max stood tall, his chest moving rapidly with his breath. He pushed his jeans down the rest of the way, and then his briefs, and Darcy’s eyes widened on his impressive erection.
Her mouth watered, and when Max bent over to undo her jeans and pull them down she lifted her hips to help him. She felt only mounting impatience as he looked her over with possessive heat, pulling her panties off to join her jeans on the floor. No teenage crush could have prepared her for this reality. She felt as if she was burning up from the inside out as her hungry gaze roved over Max’s perfect form, every muscle hard and honed.
A broad chest tapered down to lean hips, where his masculinity was long and thick, cradled between his strong thighs, long legs. He truly was a warrior from another time.
The ache between her own legs intensified and she widened them in a tacit plea, not even really aware of what she was doing, knowing only that she craved this man deep in her core—now.
Max cursed softly and reached into his bedside console for something. Protection. He smoothed it onto his length and then came down over Darcy, an arm under her back, arching her up, mouths fused, tongues duelling. Her breasts were crushed against his chest and she was arching into him, begging...
Max pulled away for a second. ‘I need you, Darcy... The first time I can’t do slow.’
She felt as if she was caught in the grip of something elemental. ‘I don’t want slow. I need you too—now.’